


Back To You

by Fabricius



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Reunions, Tevinter Imperium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 01:16:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13179270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabricius/pseuds/Fabricius
Summary: It's been twenty years since Dorian last saw Maxwell Trevelyan.





	Back To You

The last hues of orange sunlight had long since escaped beneath the horizon. Now only stars, both natural and magically conjured, illuminated the ballroom in an abundance of different colours. People cladded in gold, silks and precious stones sauntered about the room, their chatter reaching an almost deafening volume. Practical cooling spells kept the place from overheating on a particularly hot summer night.

It was neither the climate nor the people, all watching him and everyone else through carefully crafted masks of indifference, that had Dorian wringing his hands behind his back. As anyone that knew him understood, the warm climate suited him terribly well and as he could this year celebrate, _if one celebrated these things,_ his twentieth year in the Magisterium, the political intrigue no longer managed to raise an eyebrow on his part.

Dancing the thin lines between tradition and change in an empire founded on a thousand years of political corruption had almost become habitual. Even tiresome. In his youth he’d enjoyed such games, but these days he found himself longing for the quick paced changes he’d witnessed in his time with the Inquisition. It had all seemed so monumental back then. Of course, in time, many of those changes and decisions had inevitably become new sources of corruption. Sad, but unavoidable.

It was no coincidence that the Inquisition was on his mind. That the Inquisitor was. It was Maxwell Trevelyan that had him wringing his hands and pacing aimlessly about the room.

They hadn’t spoken in many years, nearly since the days Dorian first took up the mantle of Magister. They’d tried to make the long-distance thing work, but it didn’t. They were too far apart. Dorian was too busy trying to save the Imperium from itself and Maxwell was never in the same place twice. Sometimes love isn't enough. Dorian knew this lesson well. In the end they’d agreed a clean cut was for the best, as it would be too painful to simply be friends after all they’d shared.

Dorian had thought of him over the years. Of course, he had. This was a man who’d made a huge impact on his life and how he saw himself. Perhaps he’d been the most meaningful person in his life. At first, the memories were painful. But over time, the pain faded away and he was instead left with awe and appreciation. It was Maxwell that taught him he could love and be loved in return. That he deserved love.

For years Maxwell was no more than a memory. He'd hear fleeting news of the man that eventually ebbed into nothing, as he slowly lost touch with every member of the Inner Circle. Life had blown them in every which direction, as life so often does. Eventually they just drifted apart. And as they did, so did the vividness of his time with Maxwell. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

But now he was going to see him again. Here. Tonight. It had only been a few weeks ago, that he’d gotten word Maxwell would be attending. He was apparently travelling through the Southern part of the Imperium on some business. Dorian hadn’t planned on attending the party himself, but he couldn’t pass this opportunity up. It had stirred something in him he couldn't ignore. As the moment drew closer however, he’d grown increasingly anxious.

He'd spent so long anticipating the moment, that when it finally came time seemed to stop. Because there he was. Maxwell was standing _right there_ in the middle of Lord what’s-his-name’s ballroom, chatting to some noble lady like he was just _supposed_ to be here. It was wonderfully strange.

He looked remarkably like himself. Older, of course. That happened to the best of them. There were lines around his eyes and mouth, tell-tale sign of a man who’d smiled. He’d grown out the short-cropped hair a little, leaving it neatly combed back and just a shade lighter than it had been. He kept a short, comfortable stubble on his jaw, where a once prominent scar had faded into almost nothing. He was dressed in dark shades of green, with one sleeve deftly pinned up under his arm. His hand bore a gold ring marked with the Trevelyan emblem. He looked the same, but different. In his Inquisition days he’d almost made a sport of dressing like a backwater Marcher, as he liked to address himself in jest. Now he looked distinguished.

The moment Maxwell headed for the nearest balcony, Dorian followed, making certain not to make himself noticed. He found the man standing at the bannister, looking out over the dark gardens, illuminated by a half-moon hanging low on the sky. To Dorian’s relief he was alone.

He fumbled for the words for a moment, finding himself uncharacteristically speechless, before he settled for unpretentious. “Max.”

Dark-blue eyes met his, then a smile. Recognising, familiar, _happy._ As if no more than a few short months had passed since they’d last seen each other. “Dorian. It’s so good to see you!” He said with a small laugh, one which assured Dorian that he too had anticipated this reunion. That made it easier.

He walked across the large balcony, decorated with plants and statues in abundance, eliminating some of the distance between them. “Already hiding from all the pomp and gilded decadence? I thought I’d warned you more than once it was going to be like that.”

Maxwell returned his teasing grin. “Just taking a little breather. All of this is quite different to how we do things back home. Free Marchers at least say what they mean. Here I feel like half the time we're not really talking about, what we're really talking about, you know? Some lady just talked to me about tea and I’m pretty sure I’m engaged to one of her daughters now.”

Dorian laughed. It was good to find Maxwell hadn't changed at all. “Gotta be careful with that. That’s how they ring you in. But don’t worry. A marriage here doesn’t count down South. Different Chantries and all that.”

The warrior looked horrified. “Maker! I’ve not avoided marriage this long only to give in now.”

It felt strange speaking like this again. Too familiar, given how much time had passed, and yet it was comfortable. It warmed his heart to think that even after all this time, the trust remained. “Home...” He said. “So, am I to assume you’ve retired to Ostwick after all?”

Maxwell made a face. “Retired sounds dreadfully old, Dorian.”

“We’re not as young as we used to be, painful as it is for me to admit.” He did spend an unholy amount of time in front of the mirror, trying to convince himself that the greying at his temples only served to make him look more distinguished.

“But we’re not as old as we could be.” Maxwell countered and there was _something._ A gleam in his eye. “But yes, I’ve agreed to take up a smaller bannorn. One of my uncles was without heirs and I’m quite a popular Trevelyan after the whole Inquisition business.” He looked morbidly amused by that. “Of course, _I’ve_ no heirs as well. But we’ve got enough Trevelyans to fill up the Deep Roads and then some, so I suppose they decided to overlook that part.”

Dorian crossed his arms, leaning against the bannister. “And here I thought you’d be enjoying the aimless wanderer stunt for life.” He was surprised. Maxwell had spent the better part of his youth avoiding anything resembling responsibility and had seemed eager to return to the ‘free life’ after he’d disbanded the Inquisition. A shame, Dorian had thought, since he seemed such a natural leader, when he put his mind to it.

Maxwell looked thoughtful. For a moment Dorian feared he’d crossed some line that had been drawn between them, but then the warrior chuckled. “People change.”

“That’s the Maker’s truth.” Dorian sighed, looking out over the gardens.

“It suits you.”

He looked back to find Maxwell smiling fondly at him. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Many things suit me. Care to be more specific?”

The former Inquisitor laughed. It was a pleasant sound, one Dorian suddenly found he’d missed a great deal. “Being a Magister. You’re changing things. You’ve done what you set out to do.”

Dorian bit his lip. “I no longer remember what I set out to do. I’m afraid I’ve grown a little less idealistic than you.may remember, Max.”

Maxwell looked unexpectedly bashful for a moment. “Are you not happy?”

“I’m not _unhappy._ ” It was the truth. He was comfortable. He had a home, a life where he didn’t have to hide who or what he was, even the power of a Magister, with all the good and bad that title entailed. He had a few precious friends and he’d even known men he’d cared deeply for. Perhaps he'd even loved them. If he'd never known differently, he might have believed he was happy. But he had known differently. He’d known true happiness once and he’d never felt quite like that before or since. He hadn’t longed for that life, not for a long time. Not until now.

Maxwell cocked his head. “I don’t know what that means.”

Dorian sighed, opting to look at the moon and not the man in front of him. "I've dedicated my life to something. A cause, a country. It has made me both happy and unhappy. It has given me things and denied me others. I suppose it isn't possible..."

"What isn't?"

Dorian looked back at him and noticed he'd moved closer, listening to his confession as intently as he would have twenty years ago. "Having it all."

Maxwell smiled. "You sound very old and wise."

Dorian laughed. "Old perhaps. I don't know about wise."

A moment of comfortable silence stretched out between them and Dorian suddenly realised that Maxwell's hand had come to rest on his arm. His touch felt warm. Comfortable. Dorian suddenly longed to remember more of what that felt like.

“Are you…” Dorian hesitated, looking up at Maxwell from beneath his eyelashes. This probably wasn’t the best idea, but in that moment he couldn't bring himself to care. “With anyone?”

The warrior blinked in surprise before his face split into a shit-eating grin. “No.” He leaned closer, sighing a little, as he reached over to carefully brush a lock of Dorian’s hair behind his ear. “I bet some things never change."

…

Golden light streamed in through a tinted window, making his eyes flutter open. They darted about the unfamiliar room, before he remembered. _The inn._ He turned his head to the man sleeping soundly beside him, admiring the slow rise and fall of his bare chest, before tentatively reaching over to let a hand glide over his torso.

He traced familiar and unfamiliar scars, circling a jagged one across the curve of a breastbone. Maxwell stirred, reaching up to rest his own hand on top of Dorian’s and thus bringing it to a stop. “Mm. Tickles.” He muttered, not bothering to open his eyes.

Dorian chuckled warmly. “Good morning.”

Finally, the other man let his eyes slide open, turning his head to return the smile “Morning.” His voice was groggy from sleep and he looked a little dazed, but still managed to look terribly handsome. He reached over to run a hand through Dorian’s locks, managing to give him a very pleasant flashback to the previous night. “I like that you’ve grown it out a little. It suits you.”

“Why, thank you.” He caught Maxwell’s hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, before releasing him. He scooted up a little, resting his back against the headboard, motioning for Maxwell to join him. “Does this all feel a bit like a dream to you?”

The warrior chuckled. “I think I’ve had this dream.”

Dorian reached up to stroke his small beard thoughtfully. “And in your dream… What happens after?”

Maxwell held his gaze for a moment, some look in his eye Dorian couldn’t discern. He turned a little, taking Dorian’s hand in his and letting his thumb stroke over the knuckles. “It never really got this far. I guess we both knew that this probably wasn’t the best idea. I don’t think I can just forget about all of this. That’s a feat only accomplished once in a lifetime.”

“That’s not what I want either.” Dorian sighed deeply. “But…”

“But you’re still Tevinter-bound and I’ve got a bannorn. It's rather ironic, isn’t it?"

Dorian quirked a brow.

"When we met, we’d both done our best to shed our duties. I tried to be anything but a Trevelyan and you'd run away from home. I think maybe that’s what drew us together in the first place. But in the end, it’s duty that will always keep us apart.”

Dorian thought about it. That wasn't what he wanted. He reached over to cup Maxwell's cheek, just for a moment. “I’m not making any promises I can’t keep, Max. But I can’t regret last night. What I felt… Being with you again... I _can’t."_

Maxwell cocked his head in a familiar manner. “What are you saying?”

“It’s been twenty years. _Twenty._ We’re lucky if we’ve got that many left and I for one don’t intend on wasting them.”

Maxwell looked like he was about to say something, but Dorian silenced him with a gesture. If he was going to say this, it had to be now. “I’m saying that I’ve done the Magister thing… I’ve started something. Now someone else can finish it. I'm saying things could be different. I'm saying I want to try.”

Maxwell smiled fondly. “That is unusually impulsive of you.”

Dorian leaned in to press a kiss to the other man’s lips. “People change.”

**Author's Note:**

> This just came to me last night and I had to write it. Hope you enjoyed :-)


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